


Don't Forget

by harpybones



Series: Of Humans and Monsters [7]
Category: Deltarune (Video Game), Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crossing Timelines, F/M, Female Frisk (Undertale), Gen, Good W. D. Gaster, Light Angst, M/M, Male Kris (Deltarune), Parent Asgore Dreemurr, Parent Toriel (Undertale), Parent W. D. Gaster, Scientist W. D. Gaster, The Void, Worldbuilding, Younger Brother Papyrus (Undertale)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2019-11-07 19:53:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17966969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harpybones/pseuds/harpybones
Summary: The world was broken- split, divided, and in disarray. Everything was on it's head- the things people thought they once knew were gone, wrong and changed.Yet their lives are far from ending, their stories not yet closed.The Void isn't darkness, but the Void isn't light. The Void will never truly be understood or tamed, by anyone, you see...The Void knows who it controls.The Void knows what it deserves.The Void knows when the times will change.The Void knows where it will happen.Yes, the Void knows why the world revolves the way it does.And it knows that it is ever-spinning.***"Darkness isn't forever, though it may seem so.Whenever shadows engulf your world, I will be your candle.Don't forget, in your time of need, I am with you in the dark."[THE FINALE OF "OF HUMANS AND MONSTERS"]





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> (This first bit takes place before the flashbacks in Mother was in Violet. If you are reading this and haven't read the other stories in the series, I HIGHLY suggest you do so. This whole story won't make sense if you haven't.)

   Alphys had just returned from the science department when Sans met her outside her home. He asked her all these odd questions, about a man she didn't know, about a past she had no recollection of, and a life she didn't remember. But something inside her said she had to trust him. Alphys followed along with Sans’ plans to build this giant, dangerous, world-tearing machine to save this man Sans called “father.” Alphys tried her hardest to make sense of what Sans was telling her. All these alternate timelines and realities were caused by this…“W. D. Gaster”, he told her. A man with a complicated and dark history.

 

“Despite everything,” Sans said, “I still love him.”

 

She didn't need a better reason. Alphys knew all about bad decisions, giving in to temptation and taking things too far in the name of curiosity and science. She knew all too well. If this meant that much to Sans, she'd put everything aside to help. They were partners in the Dreemurr Royal Laboratory for a long time. On rough days, she'd spill her entire life story to Sans, and when he was feeling down, she'd offer him friendship and comfort. Someone to listen. If there's any monster she'd consider close to her, it was him. To her, they were best friends.

 

Sans needed Alphys to retrieve the last few pieces of the machine. He said they should be within her luggage from the Lab since he was unable to find them when he originally went to gather Gaster's things after he disappeared. Alphys sat down on her office floor and looked through her still partially unpacked bags and boxes, searching for anything unusual. She dug through every box and container in her office. Papers, folders, and office supplies were strone everywhere. Alphys asked Sans if anything looked familiar to him. She was beginning to lose hope. She knew he was, too. Whatever hope he had left, that is.

 

Alphys started to put the papers and folders back into the box.

 

“Wait!” Sans blurted aloud.

 

She paused. Sans quickly moved next to her. He took a large, clearly aged, white folder from out the box. It was written in some code, using symbols and shapes in the place of letters. Sans knew this code.

 

“This is it.” He whispered. “This right here.”

 

Alphys was puzzled. “I thought we were looking for parts?”

 

Sans chuckled as he flipped through the folder, studying each paper intently. “We are, and this is a key.” He stopped on a page that had rough sketches of a machine scratched onto it. Small notes were scribbled down beside sketch with tiny arrows pointing from the words to a specific part. Sans sighed, relieved at the discovery. Alphys stood up from the floor and stepped beside him.

 

“So what does this mean?” She asked. “Where are the parts?”

 

“Under Ebott, Alph.” He smiled, then laughed softly. “Grab a shovel. We're going excavating.”


	2. A Doctor and a Madman

     It took about three hours to dig up this thing. What Alphys had lying before her was something she did not expect at all. A huge chunk of a once-great, powerful, and extremely dangerous machine that the infamous doctor Gaster himself thought up in that dark and corrupted mind of his.

At least, that's what Sans told her.

The hunk of wiring and metal looked so insignificant in this position, but Alphys knew that it once had a place among some of the greatest machines ever built. Remnants of the C.O.R.E. deep within the tunnels of Hotland's scorching valleys.

But somewhere, in her gut, Alphys had a feeling there was more to this adventure that Sans had planned for them. She needed to understand. It was bugging her quite a bit. "Sans?" She called over her shoulder.

The sound of Sans' shovel quietened as the digging came to a stop. "Yeah, what's up?" He asked.

"Why are we here?" She asked. "I mean, why are we _really_ here?" Alphys didn't want to pry, but this all seemed too...simple, too quick, especially for Sans. There has to be something more. "Why do you w-want to do this?" She stuttered. "A-after everything he's done, I mean, if everything you have told me is true, why do you want him back?"

Sans was silent for a moment. He leaned onto his shovel as it was still buried into the ground. He was contemplating his next set of words. "Alphys, may I ask you a question?"

She nodded, curious of the question.

Sans tapped his boney finger on the shovels handle. "Do you believe in second chances?" He asked.

"Of course," Alphys answered. "but, you know, it all really depends...on the situation..."

Alphys knew Sans was referring to Gaster. She still couldn't see Sans' view on this. Gaster was given more than a second chance. He was given a whole new life, and the man still continued to bite off more than he could chew.

Gaster ruined his own life. He did this to himself, yet Sans wanted to save this man from his own undoing.

A human philosopher once said that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting different results each time. By that definition, Dr. W. D. Gaster is, in fact, insane. To no one's surprise, really.

"Of course it does," Sans spoke up, "and in this situation, I don't think the good doctor died regretless."

The good doctor? Alphys couldn't believe what she was hearing. Sans was the one that told her all the heinous things Gaster had done in his life. How on earth could he say that-

"I think two minds were living in one man's body."

Alphys perked up. Did she hear that right? Two minds? To mentalities? Two separate personalities at work? In the same form? But...

 

 _A doctor_ and **a madman.**

 

 _A savior_ and **a murderer.**

 

 _A hero_ and **a villain.**

 

 _A loving father_ and **a crazed scientist.**

 

 _The light_ and **the dark.**

 

In almost an instant, Alphys began to make sense of it all. Everything she knew about the history of humans and monsters, with the information Sans had given her on their journey down to the mountain, Alphys felt it all click into place.

"Could..." Alphys spoke up. "Could you elaborate on that a bit more?"

"My _father_ was not an evil man," Sans' voice was low. He spoke slowly and clearly for Alphys to hear him well, "and Dominik Vogel was _a good doctor_." He paused for a moment. "Alphys," he asked, "Are you familiar with the legend, 'The Knight of Albion'?"


	3. The Second Thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Mini chapter, visiting Gaster's side.)

**_Ever since the accident, Gaster had never once gave his actions a second thought._ **

 

     The void was an odd place. It was cold, dark, and full of nothing. Yet, in the same instant, it  _ was _ something. Gaster saw everything he could have never imagined. Of course, he theorized the existence of alternate universes and such, but never would he have thought to actually see them before his eyes. 

 

Realities, timelines, dimensions, all these other worlds playing in motion at the same time, down to every millisecond, coexisting without knowing of each other's existence. 

 

Gaster marveled at the sight. Words could not truly express his thoughts. It was quite...exquisite. However, Gaster knew that interaction with them had the high possibility of ruining the natural flow of time, but…

 

Does his existence here, in this lifeless void, give him a power over these worlds…?

 

Considering he is, truly, the only "living" form in this continuum, does that- by definition, make him a God…?

 

If so…

 

What could he do with that power…?

 

*

**_Ever since the accident, Gaster had never once gave his actions a second thought._ **

 

The Void was his, and his alone. He could truly do whatever he wished without any real consequence- not directly to him, at least.

 

That kind of free will...who would pass up on the ever-so-open offer?

 

There was once a time when he would be so plagued with guilt, it would be hard for him to breathe.

 

**_Ever since the accident, Gaster had never once gave his actions a second thought._ **

 

A harsh pain would arise in his chest,

 

**_Ever since the accident, Gaster had never once..._ **

 

His heart felt like it was collapsing,

 

**_Ever since the accident, Gaster…_ **

 

As of recent, this has not been the case. Gaster has felt nothing more than pride in himself and his false victories. He showed no sentiment for anyone, or remorse for his actions. 

 

He didn't even feel the tiniest bit of regret for what he had done to the poor jester, the halfwit that accompanies him in the Void- the very place that Gaster forcefully brought him to just so he could suffer in it for eternity. All in exchange the fool's higher than average potential power.

 

Although, is it really torture if the victim doesn't realize they're suffering?

 

**_Ever since the accident,_ **

 

Gaster had failed to realize his conscience was gone.

 

**_Ever since the,_ **

 

What little he had, that is.

 

**_Ever since.._ **

 

Vogel disappeared from his memory.

 

**_Ever..._ **

 

How could he forget?

 

*

 

     Ever since his death, Vogel had sworn to keep his mentality intact within his new body. After all, his soul was still alive, thriving even after the dangerous conversion. He still knew himself. He knew.

 

**_Ever since the accident, Gaster had never once gave his actions a second thought._ **

 

Gaster never acknowledged the hole burned through his ribs when he awoke in the Void.

 

Gaster never noticed that Vogel was quiet.

 

He had been for quite some time before.

 

And so Gaster thought nothing of it, and scratched his boney fingers deep into the sensitive continuum, leaving dangerous inconsistent traces within them. He toyed with their realities as if they were nothing but playthings- his entertainment.

 

There were no second thoughts.


	4. Little She Understands

"The what?" Alphys arched a brow. 

 

"The Knight of Albion." Sans repeated. "It's an old story. I read a book about it, a long time ago." He paused. "I believed it was fiction. An old story, written during the medieval ages in England." Sans smirked, and shook his head. "I thought monsters were just works of fiction, as well."

 

"What does this have to do with-"

 

"Right." Sans cleared his theoretical throat. "The story tells of a phantomous knight who served a beast king in the northern regions of England. Well, supposedly at least. The Knight was far more powerful than the King, but the Knight allowed the King have the position of power. He  _ wanted  _ people to fear them and their kingdom. The Knight did express his true power often, though. His ability to indirectly control everything and everyone. It was called the "Shadow Hand," an invisible force that kept the kingdom in motion, moving, like game pieces on a chessboard."

 

Alphys’ eyes were opened and wide. "Incredible...to have that much power…" She sighed. "But, what does this have to do with Gaster?"

 

"I don't think it's a fairy tale." Sans answered. "I think the Knight of Albion is  _ real. _ " 

 

Alphys nearly rolled her eyes. "Okay, but what makes you so sure?"

 

"I remember stories. Not fairy tales, but legitimate stories that my father would tell me about the other monster kingdoms around ours, under the human countries of Spain, France, Poland, Italy-...Before the Barrier broke, did you  _ know _ we lived under Germany?"

 

"On topic, Sans."

 

"Oh." Sans laughed. "Sorry, heheh." Sans gazed around the cavern, diamonds twinkling on the ceiling. "He told me about the Four Kings of Shadow Geyser, a monster kingdom underneath England. He told me how Cobalt Spades, the Spade King, was feared by the others, because of his Shadow Knights. Specifically, their Lord. Their leader, name unknown. Simply called "The Knight." Even though Spades was the  _ face _ of the Kingdom, the  _ Knight _ was the one who led the show. He went as far as to kidnap a queen from a different kingdom and brought her to their own during the confusion of the monster crisis. Supposedly, it was to end Spades’ sorrow from the loss of his own queen- and his son was in need of a mother. Whether this was out of friendship or strictly business, who knows. This “Knight,” though, is definitely a monster meant to be feared, that’s for sure.”

 

"Well," Alphys hummed, "That is certainly an interesting story, and possibly truth, if Gaster told you…” 

 

_ If Gaster is real at all. If any of this is real at all. What if Sans is delusional-  _

 

She hummed. “Powerful monsters can live for thousands of years, Sans. Do you think…?" 

 

Sans nodded. Alphys scratched under her chin, pondering. If such a powerful being truly exists, what could that mean for them? Was Gaster the cause of these so-called alternate universes, or was it this “Shadow Knight”? Did this have something to do with both of these beings? 

 

If a being that powerful truly existed, how could  _ anyone  _ forget about that?

 

A sound of screeching metal caught her attention. She jerked her head around to Sans as he was turned away from her, leaning down, and lifting the hunk of machinery from the ground. 

 

"Give me a hand, Alph?" He asked.

 

Alphys stepped over and held a tight grip on the metal piece. Sans stepped away, using his psychokinetic magic to lift and guide a cord from his bag over to his current position. He tossed the other end to Alphys, and wrapped the cord around the machine, pulling and tugging it out of the ground. Sans then held it in place, and raised his hands up to it, the bones of his palms facing the machine. In a flash of blue, the machine disappeared from its spot, leaving a giant, rocky hole in the ground where it once stood.

 

“It’ll be back at your lab, with the other parts.” Sans answered, before Alphys could even ask.

 

The reptilian woman simply giggled and shook her head. “You and your magic, Sans. It’s always impressive.” She complimented. “Much stronger than any other monster I know. Well, aside from the Dreemurrs.”

 

“I learned from the best.” He said.

 

Alphys didn’t respond.

  
  


*

 

It took 10 hours. 10 hours to rebuild the machine in the "basement" tucked away far underneath her home. Alphys knew she hadn’t sweated so much in her life until now. She’s done many all-nighters, but this has made her more tired than she’s ever been. The bags under her eyes would make Mettaton faint. Her hands felt calloused. She wasn’t surprised.

 

Sans didn’t look much good himself, and he knew. He was a skeleton of surprisingly limited expression, given just how expressive he is- well, manages to be. Alphys could see his tired eye sockets, and he knew. She could feel the aching determination and eagerness irradiating from his soul, and he knew. 

 

He hoped she would.

 

“Sans?” She spoke up, after ages of silence. “Everything okay?”

 

The skeleton slowly turned his skull to her, ever so slightly, the lights in his eye sockets gleaming brightly. He smiled, and said, “You ask this so often now, I’m beginning to wonder if I was always so depressing to be around...that this seems out of character or something.” He chuckled. “I’m doing fantastic, Alphys. Thank you for asking, though.”

 

"Just curious. You've been quiet." She responded.

 

"I'm just thinking."

 

Sans rested his bone hands in the pockets of his slacks. He imitated a deep sigh, turned on his heels and walked over to the control panel. He eyed it's interface, as if he was evaluating its purpose. Alphys watched Sans for a moment. She didn't say a word. The room stood still. It seemed like ages.

 

Sans hovered his hands above it, flicked a few switches on, shifted a long lever upwards, and smashed the red button once it's panel opened. The back of the control panel opened, and a large tube on top of mechanical-arm rack extended out and thrusted upward, already opened and awaiting a power source. 

 

Alphys cocked a brow. "That's...not the same as the original blueprint…" She finally spoke aloud. "...Sans?"

 

Sans began to undo the buttons on his dress shirt, slipping it off his shoulders, and tossing it onto the desk mere feet away. 

 

Alphys couldn't help but stare. Underneath Sans' ribs lay his soul, gleaming brightly in a light blue aura. It is different from that of other…"monsters." Skeletons are not normal monsters- she recalls this from Dr. Gaster's notes. They are born from the corpses of deceased humans, as all skeletons were human at one point. They retain their human souls, albeit inverted and deformed. 

 

_ "The chances of a soul to reawaken after death are slim. The majority of these happenings is a result of failed dead thralls; rogue necromantic magic. Sometimes, that just isn't the case. It just...happens. All of a sudden, the soul refuses to pass on. Due to these random events; Ghosts, Undead, and Skeletons are an extreme rarity. But their souls, especially a Skeletons, prove to be very, very powerful." _

 

"Sans…" Alphys' voice was shaky, "What are you doing?"

 

His hand gripped the glowing ball of energy beneath his ribcage. He twitched, his face wincing at the touch as he tugged lightly at it. It took several forceful tugs before the soul was finally freed from its locked position. Sans wobbled a bit, falling slightly backwards and forwards. He felt a bit nauseous, like a mild case of vertigo.

 

Sans, though a bit shaky in his step, carried his freed soul to the glass, cylinder-shaped tube, where he then closed the lid and trapped it inside.

 

Alphys stood worried and confused, awaiting a response from her partner. "Sans?"

 

He wobbled back from the machine, and fell into the chair behind the nearby desk. He attempted to regain a bit of energy before responding. Sans said, "We… didn't have a free monster and human soul to use." He then gestured towards the machine. "Luckily mine is right there in between both."

 

"But is it powerful enough to handle it-?"

 

"We'll see."

 

"Sans, this is dangerous."

 

"I know."

 

The skeleton was stubborn, Alphys knew this well. He always has been. Stubborn and hard-headed, but good willed. He always has been. 

 

Always. Static. Never-changing. 

 

Gaster was a complicated man. This whole situation was complicated, really. Alphys' morality was being tested and it made her head hurt. Badly.

 

As Sans flicked on the power to the machine, Alphys stood by and began to think deeply about what was about to happen. 

 

_ Are we really doing the right thing? _

 

"You're risking your life for an evil man, Sans." Alphys said aloud.

 

Sans kept his back turned to her. "My father wasn't a bad person."

 

"Why would you do this for a man that has never truly changed his ways?"

 

"Despite everything he has done, Alphys, I still love him."

 

Alphys knew love made one do questionable things. If Sans' judgement was true, Gaster's hundreds-of-years-long void vacation may have taught him a lesson.

 

Love is a strong emotion.

 

Love makes you do crazy things.

 

_ Love conquers all. _

 

She knew.

 

Sans hoped she would.


	5. Forever With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (TW: Psychological Torture, physical torture, and mentions of religious views and radical religious beliefs)

Even after being attacked and branded by an iron rod, even after feeling the scars and welts of that pentagram on his shoulder blade every morning, Jevil never realized just how much humans hated monster kind- not until they had him upside down, dangling from a branch, beating him, and mutilating him.

 

The mob strung him up on the long branch of a tree, tied by his feet, and beat him constantly with sticks, thin switches, and throwing stones.

 

A man grabbed onto his tail. He couldn't see him. He was blindfolded. He couldn't fight him. His hands were in binds. 

 

But he could certainly feel what he was doing. 

 

He felt the blade slice his skin. He felt it enter underneath, cutting nerves and veins. He felt the blood running out. He felt the entire tip of his tail being violently ripped from his body. 

 

He knew they heard his shrieks of terror and his blood curdling screams. His heart was racing.

 

Yet they cheered on.

 

_ "Butcher the freak!" _

 

_ "A spawn of the Devil himself!" _

 

_ "A son of Satan!" _

 

Jevil never knew this " _ Satan _ " they spoke of; this " _ Lucifer _ ," the " _ Devil _ ." Jevil knew that he himself was a devil, an imp, that was his own species. But he didn't know there was such a thing as " _ The Devil, _ " not at first. 

 

Jevil's first impression of  _ "The Devil" _ was through insults thrown at him from superstitious humans. Then, he heard of it through pilgrims; travellers, missionaries. He's heard the stories of this religion that many of the humans followed, from the friendly "evangelists" that came to monster villages to preach and spread "the gospel." Jevil liked to listen to these stories from their big holy book. The friendly preachers were more than happy to tell him about it all. 

 

_ "You may look different, but we are all the same in the eyes of our Lord. God made us as brethren. To live and thrive together, in His light." _

 

Some preachers weren't so friendly to monsters. These people saw monsters as a creation of " _ The Devil. _ " Spawns of the evil and vile  _ “Satan.” _ This was especially true for imps, also known as devils. They just so happen to resemble the illustrations of the " _ Fallen Angel _ " himself...

 

The cruel depiction of " _ Lucifer _ ."

 

Despite these names, these ugly, ugly names they would call his kind, call  _ him _ , Jevil wouldn't know the true extent of the hate many people hold for monsters.

 

Not until he was hanging from a tree by his feet and his hands bound behind his back. Helpless. Defenseless.

 

And just as quickly as he was attacked, Jevil felt the rope on his feet loosen, and he quickly fell head first onto the ground. Everything turned to black.

 

*

 

Jevil often recalled the memories of his life before following the Spade King underground. He remembered how moving into isolation from both humans and monsters was best for him. He remembered his parents telling him so, almost every single day until their deaths. 

 

_ “Our kind isn't loved by many, son. Human or monster.” _

 

Jevil thinks about "love" often. What has love ever done for him? 

 

He loved his parents. They're dead now.

 

He loved his friends, those he had before and after the crisis and war. Both turned their backs on him.

 

He loved Seam. Seam isn't here anymore.

 

As Jevil sits inside this literal void, he stays not knowing of just what his “Overlords” want from him. They phase in and out of existence here. Jevil knows he flickers, too. The Skeleton told him that people were always after him, even before moving into Shadow Geyser. Jevil knows this is true. His parents told him the same. The scary Knight told him the same.

 

The Skeleton told him he had a strong brain. He told him that he needed him here. 

 

The Knight told him the same, but he wasn't as friendly. He often threatened Jevil with violence.

 

The Skeleton made him feel important. 

 

The Knight made him feel helpless.

 

Jevil pondered just what it was that the two of them were after. He wanted to know what importance he played to these men and their plans. He wanted to know why they’re keeping him here.

 

Then they  _ showed _ him. They showed him his memories. After a few moments, Jevil felt it all flood back. He remembered the accidents- all of them. He remembered each time they happened, when his hands were shaking, when a nauseous feeling creeped in, when his vision became hazy. It was as if at any moment he would vomit and collapse, but it never happened. Instead he would awake, everything would have already been done, and he would cry over and over.

 

He remembered why his family had to run from West Hightower and hide in the woods.

 

He remembered why the riot broke out in Northumberland when the bodies of those human children were discovered.

 

He remembered the night that landed him in Shadow Geyser's Sanitarium. 

 

**_It was your fault. You did those things. You hurt those people, and you didn't even realize it, you freak!_ **

 

_ You were sacred. _

 

**_You did it out of spite!_ **

 

_ You were in danger. _

 

**_Right?_ **

 

_ Right? _

 

Jevil felt his hands shake again. He felt the sickness rise into his stomach one more. He felt tear droplets weld up and blinding his eyes into a watery haze. He felt dizzy- he needed to fall, but there was nowhere he could land. He was already falling. 

 

**_“Yes! Keep it up, little one. Hold it!”_ **

 

He felt the familiar invisible weight crashing down onto him. Jevil gripped his chest. His heart was pounding, his soul shrinking underneath the force. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t...

 

_ You have felt this way before.  _

 

**_This is when the disaster happens._ **

 

_ You’re in danger. _

 

**_You’re in danger!_ **

 

Jevil summoned ethereal axes and suit-bullets around him as a defensive mechanism. The axes and bullets flew around his sphere, finding nothing to hit yet. In the Void, Jevil found himself continuously revisiting memories, experiencing only the same results every time. He felt his heart rate increase. He felt as if his body was overheating. The Void was cold, yet he was sweating bullets.

 

His overlords enjoyed it when this would happen.

 

They told him it made him stronger.

 

They told him he was helping with something important.

 

They told him  _ he _ was important.

 

**_Soon you will see, little one._ **

 

In the darkness, Jevil found no comfort.

 

_ You’re doing this for a reason. _

 

In the darkness, he was unhappy.

 

They told him he was happy.

 

Just as all the times before, a huge flash of energy burst through Jevil’s weakening body. The images and pictures that once flooded his mind disappeared. He felt powerless once more. Jevil attempted to gaze into the void and find the consequences of that power. There was nothing to see. 

There was only the cold, empty void.

 

_ “Remember what you’re here for.” _

 

Jevil didn’t know what that would be.

 

**_“Keep it up. You’re far from done here.”_ **

 

Jevil wished he was.

 

The little imp curled into a ball, and cried. He cried just as he would every time before. He cried just as heavy and just as loudly as he did when those men that harassed him in West Hightower combusted before him and fell dead, burned pitch black; when the Northumberland children that chased him with flaming staffs and pitchforks exploded mere feet away from him; when his fellow performers began to drop dead…

 

“Please…” he wept, “Please let me go…”

 

As before, his Overlords spoke to him from the shadows of the Void.

 

_ “You have done so much harm to your peers, little imp, why would you want to leave?”  _ The Skeleton whispered to him in one ear.

 

__ In the other ear, the Knight deeply growled to him _ ,  _ **_“They will not accept your power and strength. They clearly have not before.”_ ** He breathed in a long inhale, then spoke again. **_“We noticed your potential. We want you here. You will stay, regardless.”_ **

 

Jevil would have retorted, but he lost the strength to. He reached out with his hands, as his shaking began to cease, but saw nothing before him. Nothing but shadows, nothing but darkness. Suddenly, he felt something touch his hands, holding them in it’s own. The grasp was like ice; cold, prickly, and with the ability to throw someone into shock. Jevil tried to jerk back, but the hands were holding him into place. He tried to fight, but he did not have the energy, he couldn’t muster the strength.

 

_ How can you fight what you can’t see? _

 

_ How can you fight in a place like this? _

 

_ How can you fight in your condition? _

 

Jevil felt something pierce his brain, a debilitating feeling that made him fall limp. He completely lost control of his own body. He knew this feeling. He has been through this loop before. He knows this. He had to- 

 

Soon, or later after, or before then, he felt nothing. Jevil awoke in the Void once again, but to him, it was the first.

 

The Skeleton whispered again.

 

The Knight growled once more.

 

And each loop that circled around, the helpless little imp would break, and give them the power they needed. For what purpose, was withheld and lost to Jevil.

 

The world was spinning, but nothing was there.


	6. The Dreamwalker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is probably the longest chapter I have ever written)

"Oh my God!"

 

It was so sudden. The sound of Alphys' voice replayed over and over in Sans' skull as he stumbled around the basement. He placed his hands onto the old desk next to him as his bones grew weak. His structure was failing. No surprise, he knew.

 

It was his soul that held himself together.

 

Now it's powering that machine, and draining _his_ strength.

 

To Sans, it was a sacrifice worth making.

 

The machine, remnants of the _S.P.E.C_., was fully functioning, and the portal began to form. The gravitational pull was becoming stronger and stronger by the second, its warping sound pained against the two scientists’ ears; it was like being hit by a blunt force blow, repeatedly. Alphys gasped at its rapid growth. She ran to the other end of the room, turned and gripped onto the walls tightly. She looked back towards Sans as he, for some reason, stayed where he was.

 

    “Sans!” She called out to him, "Move! Quickly!" But her skeleton companion wouldn’t budge. Not an inch.

 

Sans leaned his remaining weight onto the desk. It was only a few feet from the growing portal, he knew this, but there wasn’t much he could do, anyway. He was weak without his soul with him; every skeleton monster was. Taking a single step made his bones feel as if they were being sawed in pieces.

 

Papers, boxes, pens, pencils; all flying around the room, and moving towards the portal’s strengthening force. Sans wobbled against the energy, his bony clawed fingers digging into the wood of the desk. “Alphys...!” He yelled, as loudly as his weakening body would allow him, “Keep it open! She says keep it open! Please!”

 

_What? Who is "she?"_

 

Her instincts were telling her to switch that damned machine off. Something isn't right. Alphys jerked her head around, her eyes falling onto the control panel.

 

_This is dangerous! Too dangerous! He's going to die! Something is wrong!_

 

_TURN IT OFF!_

 

But she couldn't. She _can't_ do it. This meant everything to Sans! He was her best friend. He was with her in her time of need. This is the only time he was _ever_ asked for her help with something!

 

He's waited so long for this. He's waited so long to see the man behind that portal. His "father." She couldn't turn it off. She couldn't stop it. She had to allow this to happen. For him. For whatever he is doing here.

 

_Even if it takes his life in the process?_

 

_What good would this be, then?_

 

Alphys couldn't bring herself to step over to the panel. She obeyed Sans’ words, and stayed put.

 

Across the room, Sans lowered his head, heaving as his bone assembly grew weak. He felt his fingers falling loose, and his kneecaps clanking against his weight. Second passed and Sans collapsed. His skull smacked down onto the ground. His vision became a blur and his sockets met with darkness. The last sound that crossed his ears was his own bones cracking onto the floor.

 

"Oh my- Sans!" Alphys screamed. Her voice was strained against itself. She quickly looked away from the scene before she could make out what had happened. The sound of bones clattering and clanking against the concrete ground that made her scales crawl. 

 

The basement began to vibrate. The walls rattled violently. The latch door on the ceiling shook on its hinges. The desks began to shake and move across the room. Alphys clenched her eyes shut tightly. Her hands were stiff in place as she dug her claws into the walls. She cried out, wept, and prayed that she'd survive this.

 

*

 

"I...killed them."

 

**_"Yes."_ **

 

"I killed...those people..."

 

**_"Yes."_ **

 

"...With...my brain…"

 

**_"Yes, little imp. Yes you did."_ **

 

"Why…?"

 

_"Only you can answer that."_

 

**_"You sought to display your strength and power!"_ **

 

_"No, he did not."_

 

**_"How would you know?"_ **

 

_"You can look at him and tell. He simply isn't that kind of person."_

 

**_"Of course. Because you're the master of "everything isn't what it seems?" Clearly you'd know looks can be deceiving, doctor. Your tale is, tragic, to say the least."_ **

 

_"Fair point."_

 

**_"As always."_ **

 

"What do you want with me?”

 

Each time Jevil's power-high came to an end, he always ended up here. Stuck between the bickering of the Knight and Gaster, searching for answers that they never truly gave, and thus he's thrown into the loop again.

 

The two never planned on giving any further information to Jevil at all. If the little imp knew what they were using his powerful mind for, he may attempt to find a way to stop them. They couldn't risk that.

 

This was far too important to them.

 

There was a time where the Knight and the Gaster fought for control over the little imp, and therefore the Void itself. That time has passed- for now, at least. Setting aside differences is harder than it seems, but the two manage. Mostly.

 

    _“You will know soon enough.”_

 

“I feel as if you have said that before.”

 

    _“Quiet now, little one. Listen to the winds of the Void.”_

 

“Yes, Sir.”

 

 **** **_“Give yourself to it.”_ **

 

    “Yes, sir.”

 

*

 

    Jevil’s psychotic powers were more than Gaster or the Knight expected, but they were certainly what the _both_ of them were looking for. The ability to make someone spontaneously combust from the inside out, explode, or just drop dead; with a simple mental command? Incredible.

 

What they were _most_ interested in, though, was Jevil’s ability to open doors to other worlds in a dream-like state _._ It was a rare and powerful ability that few monsters ever had. The Imps were such monsters, rare and powerful; notorious for their strength and dangerous abilities. Most Imps lived isolated from civilized places for this reason. One would think, from his friendly demeanor, that such a _kind and friendly_ creature like Jevil wouldn’t have the ability to do such things. 

 

Jevil, however, _was_ dangerous. That wasn't a control tactic the Overlords used against him. His powers _were_ strong, and he couldn't quite control them well. Brainwashing was the only option to keep the jester from attacking and using those dangerous powers on the two. They _needed_ him. _He_ was the key to their absolute goal.

 

_The Jester._

 

_The Fool._

 

_The Devil’s Dreamwalker._

 

As they saw it, dreamwalking was the closest thing to through traveling alternate timelines. To them, each dream is another world, but it is trapped within your mind. The difference between dreamwalking and multi-dimensions is that this form wasn’t quite a reality yet. To have the ability to unlock these other worlds, and bring them to life, was what they were searching for.

 

To make it a reality was their absolute goal, and _they_ were the Gods of that soon-to-be world.

 

At least, until their little truce runs out, and one has the upper hand over the other.

 

*

 

    The sudden change was noticeable, just as it was when the doors of the Void opened all those hundreds of years ago. Jevil felt the pull, he knew the familiar feeling of the “overworld,” he knew…

 

He knew he’s been there before.

 

And he wanted to be there again.

 

_But his Overlords had absolute control over him, right?_

 

_He couldn’t do anything without their knowledge, right?_

 

_Right?_

 

It never occured to the Knight or to Gaster that their parade would soon end. The chaos they allowed to run through the _true reality_ would catch up with them, and the power they tried so hard to grasp would loosen and fall away. Jevil often thought about The End of it all, but never quite knew how it would play. He theorized that perhaps his Overlords' plans would succeed, the Knight would release his Shadow Hand across those worlds he talked so much about; that Gaster would take in those very worlds and mold them to the way he sees fit. Or, Jevil sometimes thought, maybe the Angel will come for them, and for better or for worse, reign over them for eternity.

 

As of recently, though, Jevil has questioned what his true purpose was there, in the Void. He has never done so before, at least from what he remembers. Which, admittedly, is not much. Now, every so often...

 

    “Soon now,” Long ago, a woman’s voice would whisper to him, “It will be time for you to go. Your Queen shall make it so.”

 

Now, he sees that his Queen has kept her word. 

 

With his eyes, he finally sees something in front of his face.

 

With his feet, he finally feels the ground below him.

 

A cold breeze drifted across his skin. It was a sensation that felt so alien to the imp. 

 

_Prickly._

 

_Cold._

 

_Soothing._

 

Before him, Jevil’s eyes locked onto a bright blue radiating portal that quickly drew him in. He swore he could almost see the paradise on the other side...

 

_Color._

 

_Warmth._

 

_Happiness._

 

_Peace._

 

So many things he’s never had before, he thinks.

 

 Jevil’s tail flicked with curiosity, but he was hesitant to go towards it. Was this real, he thought, or an illusion created by the Overlords? At trap?

 

“Go on.” Jevil heard the echo of his “Queen” as she spoke to him, after what seemed like ages of silence. “It is time.” she said.

 

As Jevil took the first step forward, he noticed a creeping feeling appear around him. Gaster’s boney hands fell upon his shoulders in a tight grip, and the gigantic, dark, heavy aura of the Knight resonated to his side.

 

    _“Could_ _it_ _be?”_ Gaster questioned the display.

 

 **** **_“So it seems. What do you make of it, sorcerer? Is this real?”_ **

 

_“I think...Sans. It had to be. He was the only one…He did this.”_

 

    The Knight didn’t sound convinced, moreso confused. **_“My_** **_apologies doctor,_** **_but who?”_**

 

    Gaster loosened his grip on Jevil’s shoulders. The imp stayed silent, listening to his Overlords speak, and hoping not to anger them.

 

 _“My son.”_ Gaster responded. _"I thought you knew."_

 

The Knight thought for a moment. **_"Oh, right. Yes, the human children you turned ...Yes, of course. Your...sons."_ **His response dripped with sarcasm.

 

_"You say it as if it's a bad thing."_

 

**_"It is."_ **

 

Gaster's sockets widened. He wouldn't admit to feeling hurt by the Knight's rude response, but it certainly caused the hole in his ribcage to burn all over again. 

 

**_"I didn't take that human Queen for her throne without a statement, doctor. I didn't force her into marriage with Spades for nothing, you know. Did my message mean nothing?"_ **

 

_"That woman had a life."_

 

**_"Your victims didn't?"_ **

 

"The irony of the two of you arguing about morality, given the things you've done, and what you're currently doing, is...staggering."

 

Jevil's ears perked up at the sound of a woman's very familiar voice. It was like silk on clouds and swan feathers, bright as moonstone, and heavily accented with the taste of her homeland. 

 

"Y-....Your highness…" Jevil spoke, instinctively. It felt natural. He remembered, he knew, this was what he'd always say to her when he saw her within the castle.

 

**_"M'lady?"_ **

 

Within the portal formed the silhouette of a human woman in a long gown, her right arm extended toward them, beckoning. When she spoke, it was with pride and authority. Jevil recalled this well.

 

"The Devil and the Skeleton...come forth." She demanded.

 

Gaster stepped forward as Jevil did, his hands still laying upon the imp's shoulders. The Queen welcomed the two beside her, inches away from the enormous portal.

 

 _"Did you make this?"_ Gaster asked her. _"No, you couldn't have…"_

 

She shook her head. "I was not as intelligent as you, doctor. I managed to contact someone who was quite familiar with this subject. I gave him the steps he needed to get started."

 

_"How did you know? How did you figure out what-"_

 

The Queen locked eyes with Jevil. She moved her hand atop his head and patted it gently. "I knew something was going on when I was kidnapped and taken from Germany to England and demanded to marry King Cobalt Spades." She said, "I knew something was wrong the second the jester snapped on stage that night. I knew something had happened when I lost my memories about the Dreemurrs and the War." She moved her hand back to her side. "It took me quite some time to regain them. Massive amounts of meditation and concentration, in fact." She then stared into Gaster's eyesockets. "But it was worth every hour. Because this little carnival you have going on is ending. Now."

 

Unamused, The Knight looked down upon the Queen. **_"You're a fool if you believe I would stay here, and not make haste to that portal."_ **

 

"I know you won't." She responded.

 

**_"I will kill you if I must."_ **

 

"You can't kill what isn't there, darling." She laughed. "Not all humans are strangers to magic, I'm sure you're aware. I dare you to try and match me. I'm sure your magic has gotten rather weak after being stuck in here for all these years." 

 

 **_"I am not weak. In fact, I saw the Void as a trial for me. I have kept my magic working constantly, to be sure that I wouldn't lose any skill. That should have been obvious to you, your Highness, but I honestly would expect such stupidity from a halfwit human female. No surprise to me."_ ** He responded with such a sour tone.

 

"I wouldn't say that, my dear. It's easy to distract a man when you're challenging his pride and ego." She giggled. "My husband was quite sensitive himself. No wonder you two got along so well!"

 

**_"Wh-"_ **

 

"Jevil," she demanded his attention. The imp moved from Gaster's light grasp, and stood in front of her. He awaited her next sentence.

 

 "My favorite little jester." she said, "So kind and so loving, I only need you for a moment. Do me a favor, my dear, and please...Give him hell."

 

 Jevil gasped. "Your greatness, I can't- I cannot fight him, I'm not-"

 

The Queen shook her head, and placed a gentle hand into Jevil's cheek. "You're no longer under his control, my dear. You never were." She whispered. "You can defeat him, and lock him in here for good."

 

Jevil stepped away, as realization hit him. He didn't speak another word, but his demeanor spoke for him. He turned towards the Knight, is eyes focused, as his scythe began to form his hands.

 

To avoid any stray magic, Gaster quickly moved back, slightly behind the Queen as she spoke again, this time to him. "Be glad it isn't you." She spoke sternly. "You're lucky you I believe you still have a chance at cleaning up your villainous behavior, given that you wasted all the others, doctor…  I suppose third's a charm, as they say." She sighed. "You're not a bad person, doctor. Not at heart. You'll know it, soon. Once you're out of this place, and far from here."

 

Gaster didn't respond; he was distracted by the loud, screeching hellish shrieks and screams; the swishing of swinging blades, the smell of blood, smoke and pyromantic magic, all erupting from the scene before them.

 

Jevil, mid air, swung his scythe right across the Knight's torso with speed so great that his opponent didn't see a thing. The Knight staggered, flipping his greatsword into his hands. He swung it in Jevil's direction, but the little imp was quick enough to move out the way and avoid the enormous blade. He couldn't avoid the flying-magic bullets that were coming at him, however. Every hit was like a burning hot needle going into Jevil's skin, leaving a giant black bruise after it dissipated. He winced each time, but he couldn't let it stop him.

 

It was apparent that attacking his armor did nothing, except give the Knight more time to attack Jevil, who was severely underarmored and vulnerable. The imp readied his own suit-bullets around him, aiming for the Knight's helm. There was something that told him, that's where he needed to focus on. That was his weak point.

 

He launched the bullets quickly, each hit causing a painful strained sound from the Knight. The helmet flew off his head from the force. His now exposed shadowy head took the rest of the blow. The Knight fell to his knees, gripping his injured face and groaning with immense pain. The Void responded to the Knight's cries, as it hummed, vibrated, and shook. Quickly.

 

Jevil jerked his head around to Gaster. "Doctor!" He called out to him, in a tone Gaster has never heard before. "Help me!"

 

Gaster looked back to where the Queen's projection was once standing, only to notice she had disappeared. This was up to them, it seemed. He turned his attention to Jevil, who appeared more than terrified of the situation.

 

Gaster raised his boney claws high in the air, and with all that was left of his soul's power, held brute force onto the Knight's now weakened body, causing him to only shriek more. The Void's anger picked up. Gaster clapped his hands together. The sound echoed through the Void as it became quiet once more.The Knight was gone.

 

A few moments of complete silence had passed. Gaster perked up to the sound of little shoes tapping onto the ground, in his direction. Jevil approached him. His hair was a mess, ruffled up and spiking in different places. His clothes were disheveled, dirty and wrinkled. His lilac skin had been bruised blue and black in various areas across his body, with slashes and cuts accompanying them.

 

Despite that, there was a smile, wide across Jevil's face; and big bright eyes that gazed up at Gaster, happily. The skeleton wasn't sure what to do, or if he should do anything at all. After several moments, the imp then grasped onto Gaster's hand, much to the skeletons surprise. He willingly led him out the giant portal, and to the out of the cold, dark Void.

 

To the other side, where either of them haven't truly been in quite some time.


	7. Mo Ghràdh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Lots of fluff, I just love Seavil. More on the actual plot in the next chapter.
> 
> NOTE: If you don't ship Seavil, you can easily skip this chapter and you won't miss anything important to the plot.)

_"There was a time when I was truly happy."_

Soft, squishy, a bit ticklish but the grass was comfy enough to lay on for hours. The air was crisp, but not the kind that makes it hard to breathe; like the kind in the Void. This air was nice. Refreshing. It's the kind of air that makes going outside enjoyable. 

 

This air was familiar. 

 

_"Out there, in the beautiful world I once knew."_

 

At that moment, Jevil realized, 

 

He was outside.

 

Jevil slowly opened his eyes, but kept them half parted for a moment. The light of the sun would take some time to adjust to. He hasn't seen it, felt it, nor been anywhere near it for around 500 years…

 

He thinks. Possibly.

 

Most likely.

 

The little devil picked himself up off the ground, and sat up on his knees. At the second he felt most comfortable with the sun's rays, he finally opened his eyes fully, and gazed in awe of his surroundings.

 

_"The sun, the stars, the clouds, the big blue sky,"_

 

The location looked untouched from the last time he laid eyes on it centuries ago. He remembered it all; the rolling hills, the thick yet soft grass, the nearby village with the giant grain mill and the bread lady, (a woman who made _very_ good bread!) the big, tall, beautiful tree with the pretty pink flowers on it…

 

_"The big castles, the cities, the villagers,"_

 

Oh, how could he forget any of it? Especially that beautiful tree…

 

_"They weren't quite friendly to our kind, you know?"_

 

After all, that was the very place where he met his best friend.

 

_"But Seam and I,"_

 

His closest friend. His _greatest_ , _bestest_ friend.

 

_"We did our best."_

 

     Ever since that fateful meeting, Jevil has not once went a day without thinking about that big fluffy feline monster. He relied on Seam as a helping hand, a shoulder to lean on, a conversation partner, and a companion for their occasional games of cards and chess. He's never put so much trust in another person like that before, he's sure of that. 

 

In fact, Jevil was sure that he's never had a true friend before. Not a friend like Seam.

 

Seam was everything to him.

 

Why did it take so long for him to realize such a thing?

 

 _"You never truly know what you have until the day it's gone,"_ someone once said.

 

Wait...

 

Who?

 

*****

 

_"Jevil, I need to tell you something, if you don't mind." Seam asked him, quite some time ago._

 

_They were sitting at the ash wood dining table in Seam's old home. A cozy little place, it was. Seam often had his fire pit lit, keeping the cabin toasty and warm. Comfortable._

 

_"Of course. You can tell me anything, Seam!" Jevil grinned, and flicked his tail around happily. Seam noticed how Jevil held the playing cards so gently in his little hands. The long black claws at the tips of the imp's fingers appeared harmless with his delicate demeanor._

 

_Seam often focused on the imp's behavior; whether it was calm, wild, or just simply cheerful. Seam enjoyed observing Jevil's personality. It was very contagious. He loved being in his company. A part of Seam hoped Jevil felt the same about him._

 

 _Although it was unlikely that Jevil actually felt the_ **_exact_ ** _same way Seam himself did._

 

_"Seam?" Jevil repeated._

 

_Seam quickly snapped out of his thoughts. "Oh- I apologize. I was pondering, heheh."_

 

_"You had something you wanted to say?" Jevil patiently smiled._

 

_"Ah, um. Well…"_

 

_Seam ultimately regretted mentioning anything about the subject. He was nowhere near prepared to talk about this with Jevil. Why did he say anything in the first place?_

 

_“It’s…” Seam sighed. “It’s nothing.”_

 

_Jevil’s expression read of certain doubt. “Surely there is something, Seam. You seemed rather eager to speak moments ago.”_

 

_Jevil would only continue to pressure him more, he knew. Seam looked away. “I just, I wanted you to know how much you mean to me. That’s all. It’s nothing…”_

 

_The smile upon Jevil’s face grew to a grin. “Oh, Seam! How kind of you! You mean so much to me, too! You really are my greatest ally and friend!” The imp leaned over the table, his arms outstretched, and wrapped them around the larger monster. The unexpected action caused Seam to jump with surprise._

 

_Seam couldn't find the strength to say what he truly wanted to. He simply returned the embrace, and kept silent. Perhaps that was best._

 

*****

 

     After what seemed like ages, Jevil managed to zoned back out of his thoughts and into reality.

 

He quickly looked down at himself; he was still dressed in his jester's uniform- well, the one of many he owned. Jevil was gifted several; one from each of the Four Kings to represent their respective kingdoms, and others that were just various designs and colors. It was hard being the only court jester for four different kings, but it had its perks.

 

Spades considered himself more... important than the other three, and particularly perfered Jevil to wear his design choice, at least, when Jevil would perform specifically for him alone.

 

At the time, Jevil didn't think too much of it, but looking back now...

 

It was simply a move that Spades made before ridding of the other Kings. Take the citizens, take the servant hands, (in Jevil's case, take the Jester) take the kingdom, then take complete control. 

 

Staking claims on everything, and rubbing your influence in; every monarch's strategy.

 

Jevil removed the glove from his right hand, and gently touched his face. Moving his hand back down to view, he gazed at his smudged fingertips. They were stained with the stark-white makeup that painted his face. Jevil sighed. He figured.

 

Still in costume.

 

Jevil stood up from the ground, and dusted off his puffy pants. He decided that he'd head for that big, beautiful tree with the pretty pink flowers. It was a memorable sight, one he'd never forget. Oh, what if the flowers were in bloom? Jevil hoped so. That would be even better to see. If not, well...

 

He prayed the tree was still standing, at least.

 

     Truthfully, Jevil enjoyed performing. The smiling faces and heartful cheers… it was what he always wanted to bow to. He loved being the Jester, the Harlequin, the Fool; indeed he adored it. But Spades' odd rules and requests turned something in his stomach, and his time within his kingdom's Sanitarium left many scars on his psyche. Scars he'll remember forever.

 

Wounds heal but scars never go away.

 

Jevil remembered laughing in the face of horror, laughing and laughing and laughing-

 

He laughed over the shrieks and cries and groans of his fellow "psychopaths" being housed under the castle floors. He laughed over their pain, their suffering- he was too blind wallowing in his own false reality to notice.

 

Yet now, he does.

 

The haunting truth is that he could do nothing about it at this point. It was the irreversible past. 

 

He could only move forward.

 

And he could never forget.

 

*

 

    Up and over the hill, he could see it now. Jevil’s face crossed with a smile once the long, thick branches of that beautiful tree came into view. As he continued towards it, Jevil quickly noticed another person had made it there before him. He was stout, large, and very tall monster- assuming those were animalistic ears atop its head. The monster wore a thick brown tunic, with beige trousers underneath. Somehow the figure of this monster appeared familiar to Jevil, though he couldn’t quite concur why. Jevil stepped forward, and before he could call out to the other monster,

 

    “Jevil?” The monster called out, though he didn’t turn around to face him.

 

The imp stopped mid-step. That scratchy and gruff voice- so familiar, so warming to hear, but…

 

    “I know those small strides, your footsteps are very distinguishable, my friend.” He spoke so solemnly, “But I am hesitant. Perhaps you are not who I think, and disappointment would fill me upon my gaze to you.”

 

Such a riddle-like way to speak, his word patterns were so damn familiar-

 

    “Please, let me know who you are, before I forget.”

 

Jevil thought for a moment. "Wouldn't my soul give that away? I _could_ lie, but my soul is honest." He replied. "You would recognize me if you knew who I was. My soul is all you need." 

 

The mysterious monster gazed upon the tree. "What are the odds that the two of us wandered upon this tree around the same time; roaming here simply from memory, and recognizing each other from some distant past life?"

 

The imp arched a brow. How did he know that Jevil recognized him? He didn't know how to respond at all...

 

That didn't seem to matter though, as the monster continued to speak. 

 

"I knew who you are the moment you approached this tree; your soul revealed you to me; the happiness and cheer irradiating from it. I've only met once monster with such glee, and that monster just happened to be a Gleeker himself. One of the best Jesters I've ever seen, a Jester who has never disappointed an audience before." He paused, a small smile crossing his face. "Your voice is unmistakable. Of course, your Highlander accent isn't as thick anymore, but it comes out sometimes. Especially when you're happy- which was often." The smile faded. " _You_ are unmistakable, Jevil."

 

Jevil almost gasped. This monster knew his name. This monster that he _knows_ he's met somewhere before, _somewhere_ _in a distant memory._ Yes, he knows this monster. He has to- that gruff voice and large build, he knows...

 

The imp smiled. "I could say the same for you, Seam." 

 

That was sudden. Jevil stiffened. The response came seemingly from thin air, but it felt so… natural, at the same time. The name of that monster, Seam, it repeated in his head, countless times.

 

_Seam, Seam, Seam, Seam…_

 

With that name, came the memories; reading and playing chess by Seam's fireplace, performing timeless acts and shows together.

 

Most importantly, Jevil believes, was the isolated moments they spent together. The moments where they could truly bond, as best friends do. Whatever it was over, that didn't seem to matter at all. 

 

Seam slowly turned around, facing Jevil with a relieved, yet eager smile. "Jevil," he spoke softly, almost a whisper, "I knew it was you."

 

"Then why did you ask if it was really me?" Jevil asked.

 

"I just wanted to hear your voice say it was so." Seam responded. His smile faded once he noticed Jevil's attire. "Why… are you wearing _that_?" 

 

Jevil looked down at himself, then back to Seam. "Well, I was actually asking myself the same thing." He awkwardly laughed, and began twirling his fingers anxiously. "You know, if everything that I recall back then… actually happened, then this is the last thing I'd want to wear..."

 

Seam said nothing in response. Instead he stepped closer to Jevil, and using his own sleeve, Seam gently wiped away the paint from Jevil's face. Seam cracked a soft grin, holding his large hand against Jevil's cheek. "There it is." Seam chuckled. "There's the face I know."

 

Jevil felt his cheeks heat up a bit. Embarrassed, he quickly looked away from the larger monster but the smile never left his face. In fact, it grew, and Jevil could only giggle about it. This surprised Seam, not because Jevil laughed about this, but because his cheeks were burning indigo; he was blushing.

 

_He was blushing?_

 

Seam wasn't sure if he should be happy or concerned about it. Perhaps it wasn't out of love, but instead genuine embarrassment? 

 

_But he's smiling._

 

No, it could be a nervous smile, and that's not necessarily a good thing. Seam feared he was making Jevil uncomfortable; that's the last thing he wanted. His next move could either strengthen the situation, or make it fall apart.

 

_Let Jevil lead._

 

Was that really a wise idea?

 

And yet Seam waited, his thumb still running gently across Jevil's bright burning cheek. Jevil continued to smile and giggle at Seam's touch, he himself trying to figure out how to respond. 

 

Several moments later, Jevil pulled away, and rested his thin hand onto Seam's _much_ larger one. Jevil locked eyes with Seam's singular one, (or where one should be) and found it hard to look away. 

 

"I need to ask," Seam suddenly spoke up. "What happened? How are we here?"

 

The sudden question broke Jevil's lost gaze, and his smile fell. "O-oh," he responded nervously, "Well, um, I… have friends in high places?"

 

Seam awaited a serious response.

 

Jevil stuttered, trying to find the right words to explain. "A… A portal opened. The doctor said his son did it, the Q- Queen was involved, I…  It all lead outside… I fought the Knight so we could leave."

 

"You did _what_?" Seam's eye widened.

 

Jevil nodded. Seam stood; stunned, shocked. "It appears you won…" Seam shook his head, smiling. "You're just… unbelievable." Raising his hand to his head, he pinched between his brows, and broke into laughter. "Unbelievable! You're full of surprises, aren't you, my friend?"

 

"I suppose." Jevil responded with glee. "Hey, Seam…" 

 

Seam's laughter ceased, and his attention fell onto the imp once more.

 

With outstretched his arms, Jevil stepped towards Seam, and attempted to wrap his arms around the cat monster's large chest. Seam didn't hesitate to return the embrace, his large arms almost completely engulfing Jevil's small frame in his hug. Jevil eased into the affection. Seam had no reason to complain at all. 

 

The pink petals from the giant tree's flowers gently flowed around the two, dancing in the soft breeze as it crept by them. As Jevil continued to hold onto him, Seam backed up to the tree, then slid onto the ground, and leaned his weight against the trunk. The sudden change in position brought Jevil up onto Seam's fluffy stomach, and his legs on either side of the larger monster. Jevil's face became a bright indigo within seconds, and a nervously-stupid grin crossed his face.

 

"When we make it back to civilization, I would like for you to change your outfit." Seam spoke up, in an attempt to cease the awkwardness.

 

Jevil removed his jester's hat, and ran his gloved claws through his dark locks of hair. "Hah, you don't have to tell me twice on that!" He giggled. Jevil's eyes focused on the buildings in the far distance. He could see the tips of skyscrapers, though he didn't know what they were. It's something certainly new to him. "I don't want to go yet, though." Jevil continued quietly. He leaned down, to where he lay atop Seam's soft abdomen completely, and poked at the doll monster's nose. "What do you say, mo ghràdh? Shall we rest here a while?"

 

Seam wasn't too familiar with Gaelic, but whatever Jevil said, he knew it was endearing. The suggestion didn't sound too bad, either. "Well, my little Highlander, I cannot refuse a good time to relax." 

 

"And… besides, there's… there's so much I have missed, y'know? There's a lot I need to learn… and, well, relearn..." He exhaled heavily, with slight frustration.

 

With a single finger, Seam stroked the side of Jevil's cheek, tracing his jawline gently.  "Do not stress yourself. Returning and adjusting to the surface world is a challenge for all the monsters, I assure you." Seam softly responded. "I… I'm just glad you're here, and that you're safe, Jevil."

 

The wind continued to blow gently across the field, and the soft rustling of the leaves was enough to lull Jevil to rest. Seam held the smaller monster against himself for as long as Jevil willed it. (Meaning until he awoke, because Seam certainly isn't going to move him.) He rested his head against the tree trunk, and drifted away.

 

Jevil had realized just how _real_ his whole world really was, just how much happiness he had denied and left behind, the memories he threw away, the reality he pushed aside.

 

All this…

 

How could he ever forget?


	8. Reunion of the Century

Gaster exited the portal, and immediately noticed the little jester that was once by his side was no longer there. Dynamics of the Void, perhaps? Odd. Maybe he was sent back to where he was before everything fell apart.

 

As the doctor stepped forward, he felt something hard beneath his shoe. He looked down, and noticed it was…

 

The bone of a forearm?

 

Following the trail of bones, Gaster realized it was the remnants of his oldest, Sans. His bones scattered across the basement floor.

 

Gaster sighed. "So selfless, my son. Did you even think?" He glanced over to the portal's control panel. With a quick flick of his finger, the portal shut off, and the tube that held Sans' soul popped open. Gaster waved it over to him, and held it carefully between his boney fingers. With his other hand, he reassembled Sans' skeleton and held it in place. He flicked his finger once more, and Sans' soul asserted itself back into place beneath his ribs.

 

Within a second, the small white glows reappeared with Sans' eyesockets.

 

Sans gasped, clutching onto his chest, heaving and jerking his head around every which way until realization set in. His bone-brows raised, gazing directly into the sockets of the older skeleton. Gaster brought Sans down onto the ground, releasing him from his magic.

 

"...Dad?"

 

"Yes, my son?"

 

"You're… you're here…"

 

"I believe so, yes."

 

Sans rolled his eye lights, and lunged forward, gripping Gaster into a tight embrace. 

 

"Careful, son." Gaster chuckled, his voice a bit shaky. "I'm so old and brittle, you might break my bones."

 

Gaster wrapped his long arms around the smaller skeleton, returning the gesture. He would never admit to how happy he truly was right now, but he didn't have to. Sans knows him well enough. He knows.

 

He didn't forget.

 

"Incredible…" Alphys gasped as she crawled out from her makeshift shelter of boxes and chairs. "Doctor, I… It's almost as if everything just… came back, I… I remember you… You were my teacher…" She smiled. "You taught me everything I know…"

 

Sans stepped away as Gaster stepped towards Alphys, a smile on his face. "You were my brightest student, Alphys." He nodded, and gestured to the portal. "If this proves anything."

 

Alphys blushed. "Oh, well, g- gee, thanks! I, um, I c-couldn't have done it without Sans, he… He was the real brains of it…"

 

Sans shook his head. "I couldn't have done it without that woman's help. She was the one who told me where to find the more natural things I needed to do this, her and her sister. I'm an engineer, not an alchemical wizard. That stuff is beyond me." He laughed.

 

Alphys raised a brow. "Who?"

 

"Two women." Sans said. "Witches, I think. Well, one is a witch behind closed doors, because she holds a reputation. The other was an outed witch… They talked to me through some kind of spell. They both confirmed to me that everything I believed about this world was the truth. And plus, they both knew my dad and that he played a huge role in that mess..."

 

Witches. Gaster knew a few back on the surface. The Queen of Ebott was a witch. Who knew? Gaster believes he's the only one who knew. After all, he was the only "civilian" allowed inside the castle. He knew what alchemy smelt like. Years of being inside Agatha's house while she crafted potions and recipes were some of the most memorable moments of his childhood. Agatha often rambled when she worked, sometimes forgetting that he was there when she did, and accidentally letting things slip.

 

Like how Agatha and Leofflaed were sisters. One was just more fortunate than the other, it seemed.

 

Wait.

 

"Sans," Gaster spoke. "Did you ever catch their names?"

 

The smaller skeleton shrugged. "Nope. They never told me."

 

"Damn…" Gaster mumbled. He hoped that the two were who he believed. Especially Agatha…

 

She was the motherly figure that Gaster lacked in his childhood. He hasn't seen in her centuries. As a witch, she could extend her life. Live long and happily.

 

But that doesn't save her from murder. If she was discovered and attacked-

 

Gaster didn't want to think about that.

 

"Hey," Sans spoke up, "I know it'll take some time to adjust to everything in the new modern world," He glanced over to Alphys. "Why don't we go out to eat or something? Show my dad around?"

 

Gaster scoffed. "I am _not_ going out in _this!"_ He gestured to his charred and destroyed once-white lab coat and worn-out shoes. 

 

"Good point." Sans chuckled.

 

"Besides," Gaster sighed. "I was looking forward to a long nap."

 

Alphys spoke up. "Well, why don't you get a long rest, and _then_ we take you out for a stroll, doctor?" 

 

Gaster thought for a moment. "Yeah," he nodded, "Sounds like an interesting evening."

 

*

 

     Sans intentionally suggested he and Papyrus buy a house with three rooms once they got to the surface. Papyrus for the life of him could not understand why. Not that Sans expected him to, not now, at least. 

 

Sans had already moved Gaster's stuff from his storage room and into the "guest" bedroom. He adjusted it the way he believed his father would like it. Dimly lit, dark colors, lots of candles, a huge desk for all his equipment, bookshelves for his personal library…

 

"Why are you so wrapped up in this room?" Papyrus would ask him.

 

"Hey, at least I'm doing something, right?" Sans would respond. 

 

Papyrus never had anything to say after that.

 

     Gaster gazed up at the rather large home. Two stories, very wide, and isolated from the city. It was very quiet here. Perfect.

 

"Yeah, Papyrus should be inside." Sans said as he fumbled with his keys. He unlocked the door, stepped inside, and shouted, "Hey, Paps!"

 

Some bumps and mumbling sounded from the upper floor. Sans chuckled, removing his coat and placing it on the rack next to the door. Gaster stepped in, and removed his burnt lab coat and shoes. He immediately chunked them into the nearby trash can, leaving him with his off-white sweater, beige slacks and black socks; all of which would also need to be thrown out eventually, of course. 

 

Footsteps trailed across the ceiling, then to the top of the stairs. 

 

"Ah, Sans!" Papyrus gleefully shouted. "I'm glad you're back, you see, I have some quest-...ions." Papyrus' smile fell once his eyes laid on Gaster. Moving down each step, Papyrus kept his face on the older skeleton. Gaster nervously smiled. Would Papyrus have been too young to remember who he was? 

 

"Hello, Papyrus." Gaster greeted him, his voice shaky. "My, you have grown so tall."

 

"Father…" Papyrus gasped. "It's blurry, but… I remember…" He reached out and squeezed his long arms around Gaster in a huge hug.

 

If Gaster had lungs, they would be compressed. "F-For skeletons," he wheezed, "You boys sure are s-strong…"

 

Sans snickered. "Alright Papyrus, you'll snap him. Calm down."

 

Papyrus' smile returned, full of glee. "Oh, Sans! I simply must make dinner for our father! Gasp! I wonder if he knows what cartoons are?! We need to watch them with him!"

 

"Papyrus, Papyrus. Calm yourself. Dad wants a nap, I'll lead him to his room."

 

Gaster followed Sans up the stairs and to the room farthest down the hall. Inside, the curtains were dark and blocked out much of the sunlight shining through the window. The bed was full sized, fluffy white pillows, and the blankets… appeared to be blacl fur. The furniture appeared _very_ old, almost Medieval to early 1800's, though the pieces were probably imitated style and not legitimate. Old oakwood desks, dressers, shelves, chairs and tables, a large iron candelabra sitting on the bedside table, and hanging goat-horn wall sconces. As for his actual belongings; his files and research papers were kept neatly tucked away underneath the desk. His old books were stored neatly on the bookshelf. His clothes were either in the dresser, and the formal ones were hanging tidy in the closet.

 

Decoratively speaking, his room was very… out of place from the rest of the house.

 

Gaster shook his head, smiling. "Sans, you do realize I'm not a _vampire,_ right?"

 

"Well, I just wanted you to feel at home. I was pretty **dead** set on imitating what you would find back in your early years." 

 

Gaster chuckled. "Well, I say, not bad, my son."

 

"I'll leave you to it, then. Just come down whenever you're ready, I guess. Papyrus seems eager to spend time with you, heheh." Sans headed for the door. He stepped out, and held onto the knob. "Not gonna lie, I am too. Anyway, don't wanna hold you up from a good nap. I know how that feels." He smiled, and closed the door behind him.

 

Gaster clutched his chest, he could see it through his sweater, he wondered if Sans did, too. He dug through the drawers, looking for another outfit to put on for the night.

 

He decided on a black sweater, and white slacks instead.

 

"Damn." Gaster thought aloud. "Maybe Sans was spot on with my lack of colors."

 

Gaster pulled the ruined sweater over his head and place it onto the dresser to be disposed of later. He gazed down at the blasted hole in his ribs. His soul was there, a lovely shade of violet, inverted, and shining brightly. 

 

Unprotected. 

 

No matter, Gaster thought, he'll fix it. If that means screwing metal rods into his ribs, he'll fix it. It wouldn't be the first time he's used himself as a test subject.

 

After changing and disposing of his ruined clothes, Gaster slid into bed and within minutes, fell asleep. 

 

It would be his first time sleeping in more than 20 years. 

 

*

 

"Sans! Dinner is complete!" Papyrus called from the kitchen.

 

Sans yawned, flipping through channels on the TV. "Yeah, I'll get my plate in a minute." 

 

"Shall I bring father his plate?" Papyrus asked, walking over to the couch.

 

Sans turned to his brother. "I think he's still asleep. You could leave it in the microwave so it doesn't get cold or something- also, you got a little spot on your shirt."

 

Papyrus looked down, scowling at the stain. He used his free hand, attempting to wipe it away. "Alright, well, I'll just leave it on a table in his room. I wonder, when was the last time he had a good meal?"

 

Papyrus headed up the stairs, and Sans looked back to the television. _Probably a while,_ he thought. Feeling a short vibration, Sans took his phone out of his pocket. It was a message from… Asgore? 

 

"Do you mind if Toriel and I come visit tomorrow?" It read.

 

 _Looks like news spreads fast once you exit the Void,_ Sans thought. They must have felt it, too. 

 

"sure. sucks being homely. you can come by in the morning. i'll be awake." Sans replied, in his usual all lowercase style. 

 

_I'll be awake much more often._

 

Sans smiled, and put his phone away. He stood up and walked over to the kitchen counter. Papyrus' cooking has actually become pretty decent. Not bad at all. Sans was more than proud. Tonight he made some kind of Asian dish that Undyne suggested he tried. Sans grabbed his plate and made his way back to the couch. His phone vibrated again. Asgore had responded to the message.

 

It read, "Thank you. Is it alright if we bring the kids?"

 

_Kids? As in plural?_

 

"kids?" Sans typed.

 

Asgore responded rather quickly this time. "Yes. Frisk and Kris. Is that okay? Or should we leave them home?"

 

_Kris-? Oh, right._

 

Sans remembered. 

 

Frisk had told Toriel to let her return to her hometown. There was someone she wanted to see. Frisk had an older brother, Kris, that took care of her. 

 

They had no living relatives, and lived in an old rundown shack outside of the town. Conditions for them were unbearable. Kris was sick.

 

Toriel ultimately took Kris in as her own, as she normally would with orphaned children. When she and Asgore began seeing each other again, Asgore happily accepted Kris as his own, too. 

 

"right. i'm not used to the plural yet, sorry, haha. sure, bring them along." Sans responded.

 

Toriel and Asgore were definitely the people who were closest to Gaster, having known him for centuries. Tomorrow would definitely be a big reunion.

 

His plans with Alphys would have to be called off. She may be disappointed-

 

 _Hey,_ Sans thought, _Why not invite her, too? Hell,  everyone else?_

 

Alphys, Hydra, Undyne, Grillby… who else did Gaster know?

 

His phone buzzed once Asgore responded with a "Thank you." 

 

Sans quickly typed another message.

 

"wanna throw a party for my old man?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Read Mother Was in Violet to see how the party went. The last chapter, at least.)


	9. Remember

"Did you send out the invites?"

 

"Yes, dear."

 

"Alright- Oh, did you write down the theme?"

 

"Yes, dear."

 

"I just want to be sure…"

 

"Calm down, Tori. I know what I'm doing."

 

Toriel paced back and forth anxiously as Asgore sipped his tea, relaxed in his recliner. Toriel finally took a seat on the sofa near the fireplace, still pondering.

 

"I just want this to go well." She explained. "No screw ups or anything. I want it to be perfect…"

 

"It will, don't worry."

 

The front door swung open abruptly, Kris' lanky body standing in the center of the frame, his hand gripping the knob. "Heya, I got Frisk from school, we're just gonna ride around for a bit." He stated, then turned around to leave.

 

Toriel stood up, her hands falling firmly onto her hips, a scowl crossing her face. "Nuh uh, no sir. You turn back around here and give your mother a kiss before you go!"

 

Kris grunted, rolling his eyes. He turned back and gave Toriel a quick kiss on the cheek. She smiled and hugged him tightly, then waved goodbye. "Be careful, honey! Who knows what kind of crazy tricks you'll try to do in that car!" 

 

Kris ran down the steps, towards his vehicle, and into the driver's seat, slamming the door behind him. "I don't do that, momma!" He shouted back, almost pouting.

 

Frisk waved both her hands at Toriel from the passenger side, causing Toriel's smile to grow wider. "I'll take your word Kris, just be safe!"

 

"I will!" 

 

With that, her oldest drove off. Toriel inhaled deeply, and exhaled even heavier. She turned on her heel, and returned back to Asgore in the kitchen. He was filling out paperwork with one hand, and holding his teacup in the other.

 

"How long do you think it will take for the letters to reach our friends overseas?" Toriel asked.

 

"It depends." He responded. "Weather affects travel speed, though the forecast says it should be bright and sunny all week. We may not have to wait long."

 

"Did you provide contact information?"

 

"Yes. I added our phone number, and the address is already on the letter."

 

Toriel sighed. "I just hope the letters reach the right people… I don't know how else to find them. They weren't as technologically sophisticated as other monster kingdoms. They still held true to the old ways."

 

"Gaster said they were alive and well… except for Cobalt Spades. He was killed, by the hands of his own son, no less. The boy is only 13." Asgore shook his head. "Supposedly it was self defense. I believe it, given how _we_ were treated when we visited the place."

 

Toriel scowled. "The man gave me the creeps, anyhow. I didn't like him one bit. Oh, I just hope the Prince is alright."

 

"According to Gaster, it's a complicated situation." Asgore explained. "All that… timeline-dimension-continuum… crazy stuff. But whatever the case, they're over there, and we'll find them, no worries."

 

Toriel placed her hand under her chin, and thought for a moment. "I wonder if we can use a contact spell… I'm not familiar with  how that kind of magic works, but…"

 

Asgore chuckled. "It'll be alright, Tori. No need to try and start using drastic methods at the moment."

 

"You're right." Toriel exhaled heavily, and returned to the sofa. "You're right…"

 

*

 

     Rouxls knew this was going to be a difficult recovery for Lancer. Psychological scars are different from physical ones. You can't see them, but they are there. Sometimes, they make themselves known. 

 

Even though Cobalt Spades was a sinister man, Lancer still saw his father within that vile beast. He didn't quite understand his father's behavior towards him. He didn't understand the way he treated the Queen, the way he treated the Jester, or the way he treated the other court officials. 

 

He didn't understand why his father saw himself above them all, and asserted that position so harshly.

 

He didn't understand why his mother and Rouxls wanted to keep him away from his father.

 

Well, at least, not until the Queen disappeared, and Rouxls had a harder time keeping Spades away.

 

It was then that the little Prince understood. 

 

The boy would he lying if he said it didn't feel so good when that spear passed right through his father's back and exited on the other side. It was only after the King collapsed on the floor that shock set in.

 

Rouxls was in an odd position when it came to that situation. He knew that Spades was not a good person, but still felt that… somewhere… he was not truly the villain at work here. Someone else was pulling the strings on this operation, and it wasn't Spades. 

 

Or maybe that was because he felt sorry for the poor bastard. 

 

Whatever the case, Rouxls knew he had to move forward from here.

 

     After Spades' death, the Darkners that survived the toxic fountains’ poison ultimately decided to leave the underground kingdom, and move back to the surface, upon the request of Lancer. Rouxls didn’t argue with this decision, as he believed it would be far easier for the prince to recover from the incident in a fresh location, and begin his life anew.

 

Lancer himself, though, did not decide to do this on a whim. There was something telling him, deep down, that this was the best decision not only for himself but for the entire Kingdom as a whole. It was a familiar and warming feeling, like a protector guiding him through the process.

 

*

 

    _Lancer stood still, stiff, as he watched his father collapse to the ground. Rouxls shouted something behind him, but Lancer couldn’t understand what it was. His head was far too clouded to comprehend anything else other than what was happening right before him._

 

_Kris, Susie, and Ralsei stood at the far end of the room near the doors that exited the throne room, their weapons still drawn from the fight before Lancer shot that magic spear at his father._

 

_Ralsei turned to Kris, his eyes widened as he said, “Would you consider this… patricide… or regicide?”_

 

_“I… don’t even know. Ralsei this really isn't-”_

 

_"I know I'm just… trying to take my mind off of... this…"_

 

_"Kid's gonna have some serious issues once we leave…" Susie added, quietly._

 

_Rouxls rushed to Lancer's side, bending down onto one knee, and embracing the shivering Prince tightly._

 

_"'Tis alright…" Rouxls cooed to him, rubbing his back and shoulders, attempting to ease his fear and shock. "All's is alright, Prince."_

 

_"No, nothing is…" Lancer weeped. "Nothing is…"_

 

_*_

 

On the shores of England's west coast, there was an abandoned village. It wasn't a hamlet, but rather about the size of a small town. It sat comfortably between a thick forest with small ponds on the outside and the beaches of the western coast. Inside, there were not only houses with their own little garden boxes, but a big general store, small shops, a blacksmith's smelter, farms on the nearby plain fields, tannery racks and meat hooks near the forest's edge, a grainery mill, and fish hatcheries on the docks of the ponds. 

 

It was the perfect place for the monsters to move into. One would think, why was such a lovely village abandoned? Some of the buildings were, as expected, in rough condition but that was easily repairable. Perhaps the past residents wanted to live in the city, where there was more action and opportunity, leaving their cozy village behind.

 

Not every surviving monster wanted to stay. Many sought out the city life as well, to live as the modern folk do. Those that wanted to stick to tradition stayed by Lancer's side, reversing him as the new, humble and kind King. Rouxls, though, wasn't sure if Lancer _should_ take his father's place, and abandon the kingdom all together. Would Lancer want this? 

 

At his age, Rouxls believes that Lancer could decide this for himself. After all, it would only be fair, given everything that has happened...

  


The Darkners mutually agreed that the largest house in the village, a stone-walled, fortress-like home should belong to Lancer and whomever he allows there with him. It took some time moving all the furniture from the underground kingdom to the village, and Lancer was, unfortunately, not exactly patient. 

 

But right now, he didn't express it. He didn't express anything.

 

Lancer sat upon his bed, his legs curled up, knees to his chest, and his head down atop them. The lights were low, dimmed to almost complete darkness. His hooded robe tossed aside, as he shivered in the cold room.

 

The double doors to the bedroom creaked open, and the tall figure of Rouxls peeked inside. "Lancer?" He whispered, "Ist thou alright?"

 

Lancer kept his head held down to his knees, only shaking it side to side in response.

 

Rouxls stepped in and closed the door behind him, walking over to Lancer and held the boy's head to his chest. Rouxls felt as Lancer's small body shook as he held him. Though Lancer tried to stifle his weeps while Rouxls was there, small peeps fell through every few seconds.

 

"Do bear not it, Prince." Rouxls whispered to the boy. "Cry if thou must. It is better if thou doth, I warrant."

 

In a few moments, Rouxls felt tiny droplets fall onto the pants leg of his suit. Lancer's cries became more audible as he wrapped his short little arms around Rouxls' waist. Rouxls rocked the Prince back and forth, doing his best to imitate the maternal care and affection that the Queen did so well.

 

Oh, Rouxls thought, what if she was here now? Is he doing this right? Has he been for the past few years?

 

Lancer's cries grew weaker, and the boy eased into Rouxls' embrace. Rouxls stroked the fur atop Lancer's head, scratching slightly behind his wolf-like ears, and then suddenly booped the Prince's nose. Lancer giggled, gazing up at Rouxls, the steward smiling down at him. 

 

A sudden knock at the doors caused Lancer to almost jump out of his skin. Rouxls patted the new King's back, and turned to the door. "Cometh in." Rouxls slightly shouted.

 

The door creaked open, and a servant's head peeked through. "Sincerest apologies for the disturbance, Lord. But there's a bundle of letters that a courier dropped off here."

 

"What ist their significance?"

 

"Four of them are directed to the Four Kings…" the servant gulped, his nerves wracking his hands' movements. "B- but there's two here for you and the Prince- er, King. There's two for the court mage and jester as well." The servant passed the two letters to Rouxls. He then bowed, and exited the room.

 

Rouxls gently opened his letter. It was written on fine parchment, he quickly noticed, as it felt soft and smooth on his hands. The handwriting was beautiful, stylized and prim.

 

"What does it say?" Lancer asked, as he attempted to look over Rouxls' shoulder.

 

"It is an invitation." He answered. "To the Dreemurr's re-wedding."

 

Lancer raised a brow. "The who?" 

 

"Thou were far too young to remember them." Rouxls responded, a bit solemn. "I am just… astonished that they remember us. It hath been so long… and all this timeline foolery added to that…"

 

"Are we going to go?" Lancer asked.

 

Rouxls smiled. "Of course we are, thy majesty. We canst not turn this down." Rouxls stood up from the bed, holding the other two letters in his hand. "The wedding is scheduled for next week.  We shall be sure to attend." He stepped over to the doors, grasping one knob. "Now, I am going to deliver these to Jevil and Seam… are thou alright, thy majesty?"

 

Lancer grinned, his pointy teeth showing over his bottom lip.  "I'm alright, Rouxls." 

 

Rouxls nodded and exited the room, closing the door behind him.

 

Feeling the warm rays of the sun hitting his back and shoulders, Lancer turned towards his big window and pulled the curtains open. From his top floor bedroom, Lancer could see the setting sun, and the colorful sky. Pinks, oranges, purples, and deep yellows. He stared at it, seemingly for ages. He couldn't help it, it was just so interesting.

 

The sun was such a new concept to him, the big bright ball in the sky. Rouxls explained that it gave life to everything, that it's rays were strong and important. Lancer found it all fascinating. That little ball that was trillions of miles into space, had all that power to help everything to live and thrive?

 

The sun was like a bright yellow floating  mother orb, that was very far away.

 

Lancer left the curtains open, allowing the light to pour into his room. For a second, Lancer thought that he could feel two soft hands on his shoulders. Perhaps it was just the warmth of the sun.


	10. Don't Forget

It has been so long since he’s ever dressed like this, Gaster knew. A long, black hooded robe that flowed down to his ankles with indigo trimming across the seams, a leather belt around his waist that fastened in the center, thin steel bracers locked tightly on his wrists, and thick tanned leather and furred boots on his feet.

 

Toriel had a specific vision for this wedding. It would be a traditional monster wedding, complete with era-specific clothing, decorations, and food. Gaster didn't question anything since he understood Toriel's decision. While Asgore would have wanted a modern styled wedding in order to "catch up with the times", Toriel wanted to relive the happiest years of her life, and the greatest moment of that time in her eyes. Asgore didn't complain, of course. Anything worked for him.

 

Gaster understood because Gaster is just like them. He's old, while not thousands of years and instead quite a few hundred, he's still old. He understands feeling out of place in this modern world, and he understands wanting to go back to your roots. 

 

If these next few hours allow Toriel to have fun and reminisce about the old days, and perhaps even have some kind of closure, so be it. 

 

And besides, Gaster thought, these clothes fit him rather well, he thinks. He's almost forgotten how comfy these were.

 

His sons, however…

 

"Dad, do I _really_ have do wear this?"

 

Well, he expected as much. 

 

Sans stepped into Gaster's room, the robes Gaster had selected for him sagging off his body, wrinkled and messy. Gaster sighed. "No, Sans, you don't." He replied. "But if you put on a suit, it'll be out of theme, and it may upset Toriel."

 

"Well yeah… But can you help me out? I don't know how this…" He gestured to the sagging, crooked black robes falling loosely off his bones. "...works."

 

The old skeleton shook his head, a small smile crossing his skull. He reached out to Sans and adjusted his robe, centering the folds and fastening the belt tightly on the smaller skeleton's waist, and pulled the hood over Sans' head. "There," Gaster whispered, "Perfect."

 

Sans glanced over to the body mirror hanging tightly on Gaster's wall. Well, it didn't look too bad, he thought. In fact, he believed it looked pretty good on him. The black shaded on the fabrics, and deep blues lining the edges; it was a harmonious combination. Sans smirked. “Hey, this isn’t too bad…”

 

Quick, light footsteps approached Gaster’s doorway. Papyrus peered in, fully dressed in his black robes, with bright orange lined on the edges. He grinned. "Father!" Papyrus gleefully shouted into the room, a grin wide across his face. "I am dressed and prepared for the King and Queen's wedding! When shall we leave?" 

 

"Whenever your brother is ready." Gaster smiled and turned to Sans, his right brow raised slightly. 

 

Papyrus huffed and turned to Sans, playful annoyance slightly crossing his face. "Sans!" He groaned, "You lazybones, must you always take so long? Think of the occasion!" 

 

The smaller skeleton adjusted his belt once more, then glanced up to his younger brother. "Okay just give me 5 more minutes."

 

"Sans!" Papyrus strained.

 

"I'm playing, I'm playing. Chill, Paps, hehe." Sans chuckled. He then directed his attention to Gaster. "Ready when you are, _Vati_."

 

Gaster smiled and shook his head at the allusion. “Alright, _Jungen_ , come on.” The old skeleton suddenly became rather ecstatic, a huge smile crossing his skull as he hurriedly exited his room, almost sprinting down the staircase. “It’ll look better if we show up earlier than everyone else!” He shouted. 

 

Sans closed his father’s door, then turned to Papyrus. “Well, seems he’s excited about this wedding, eh Paps?” 

 

“Absolutely!” Papyrus happily responded. “As our father is the closest friend to the Queen and King, it is no surprise that he would be thrilled about this!”

 

The two quickly followed behind. Gaster closed the door behind them, fumbling with his keys and locking the door hurriedly. 

 

*

 

In her bedroom, Toriel hummed softly, gazing into the body mirror, examining herself as Alphys ran her hands down the back of Toriel's wolf-pelt dress, patting down the fur, adjusting its position and flow. Atop the former queen’s head was a crudely made crown, brass and jagged. From her neck, hung jeweled, gold and brass lace. The jewelry was almost identical to the one she wore those hundreds of years ago. On her wide hips, a rough leather belt, with runes and symbols sewn into it. Alphys moved beside Toriel and glanced up to face her.

 

"You look lovely, lady Toriel." Alphys complemented with a smile. "May I ask something?"

 

Toriel looked down at the much smaller monster. "Of course. Go on." She said.

 

"Um, well, I was wondering why you decided to go with an ancient traditional wedding, rather than, you know, a modern one…" Alphys suddenly became anxious. "N- Not that this is bad! Not at all! I- It's just, well, most folks w- would want to move on with the ages, you know?"

 

Toriel nodded. She took no offense to Alphys' question and smiled softly. "I understand your curiosity." She said. "It is… not quite a simple answer, you see." 

 

"It's alright." Alphys assured her. "I'll listen."

 

The goat woman moved away from the mirror, and to the sofa a few feet away. Alphys followed.

 

"Ever since the monsters were pushed underground… the atmosphere was like a void. Everything we held close to ourselves was sucked away. We could never see the sun, the mountain flowers, the wildlife, none of it. Never again. The monsters changed. They became darker. Quiet. True happiness did not exist within them anymore..." Toriel glanced at the window, happily viewing the afternoon sun's rays shining through. "I thought that bringing back our ancient traditions would both enlighten the young, and bring nostalgia to the old."

 

Alphys nodded. "Well, it certainly brings happiness to you, lady Toriel." She smiled. 

 

Toriel chuckled. "That it does." She glanced at the clock. 6:30.

 

"It's almost time. Should we go ahead and leave?" Alphys asked.

 

Toriel stood up, her hands folded in front of her. "Yes, come now." She gestured.

 

Alphys nodded and followed.

  


*

 

Asgore will admit, he knew renting out the park was going to be an easy task the day he thought of it. The face wouldn't matter, mean or kind, no one would dare say "no" to a towering goat monster. Still, Asgore retained his friendly nature regardless, smiling throughout the entire conversation with the property owner. Perhaps one day someone would muster up the courage to have a friendly debate with him. 

 

With the help of a few volunteers hours earlier, the park was set for the occasion. Banners hung off of iron rods erected from the ground, flapping in the wind. The tables were wooden, shaved down smoothly with beautiful hand-sewn tablecloths draped over them. The former King stood near the catering table, holding a glass of champagne in his large hand when suddenly a loud voice shouted to him from a few feet away.

 

"Your Highness, you are looking like an absolute feast!" 

 

Asgore chuckled recognizing the former captain of his Royal Guard. He turned to him, "Ah, is that the new speech of the younger?" He asked.

 

A wide smile stretched across Hydra's face. "Yeah, It's one of those new words, you know. I assume it means you look great, because you do! I can't remember the last time I saw someone wearing a tunic of complete fur." He complimented. Hydra's eyes then moved up to Asgore's head. He marveled at the large, jagged and jeweled crown that sat atop. "Oh, wow." He gasped, "Is that…?"

 

"The original, yes. I kept it. Both mine and Toriel's." Asgore answered proudly.

 

Overwhelmed with awe, Hydra continued. "That's… even after all these years…"

 

Asgore placed the glass onto the table. "I could never throw away such beautiful craftsmanship." 

 

Hydra nodded. "Yeah, I still own several of my old weapons and armor pieces… Aethra's too. I guess you could say they're… sentimental."

 

"It is hard to let go of some things." Asgore added. "Although that isn't always a bad thing."

 

Hydra smiled and gestured to his linen tunic outfit. "I sure am glad I never got rid of this! Imagine trying to go find an authentic one these days." Hydra paused, gazing over Asgore's shoulder. "Hey, I've seen that lanky figure before." He grinned.

 

Asgore turned around. A rather tall human boy dressed in medieval attire approached the two.

 

"Kris!" Hydra shouted. "There you are. Man, I haven't seen you in several days. How's school, buddy?"

 

"Hi, Hydra. It's been alright." Kris answered, a small, tiny smile appearing. He then turned to Asgore. "Dad, momma said to wait inside the chapel nearby until everyone…-"

 

The gates to the park squeaked open, and a group of monsters stepped through, holding invitations. A tall dark-blue skinned monster, a younger, smaller wolf-like one, a large doll-like feline monster, and a violet skinned imp. Hydra and Kris did not recognize these monsters and stood alert. Hydra in particular clenched his fists, ready to brawl at any second.  Asgore patted the aquatic man's shoulder and stepped forward. 

 

"Welcome." Asgore greeted, extending his hand to the other man. "It has been quite some time, steward Rouxls."

 

Rouxls gripped Asgore's hand firmly, looking to the King with the utmost respect. "And yet mine name hath not escaped thou. 'tis a pleasure to meet thou again, King Asgore." Rouxls collected the invitations and handed them to Asgore. 

 

"Keep them." Asgore waved his hand, grinning.

 

Rouxls blinked. "Ah, good now. I shalt keepeth mineth as a wedding mem'rabilia, p'rhaps." He said happily. Rouxls looked down at Lancer, who was tugging at his sleeve. “What is't, thy highness?”

 

Lancer held a nervous expression on his face as he gripped the edges of his hood.

 

Asgore raised a brow. “Is the boy alright?” He asked.

 

“Ah,” Rouxls placed his thin hand Lancer’s shoulder. “The knave is just n’rvous. He shall beest fine.” 

 

Lancer wrapped his short furry arms around Rouxls’ waist. The steward patted Lancer’s shoulder, then looked back to Asgore.

 

“He is quite a strong one.” Asgore said, a tinge of sadness in his voice. “He has gone through things no child should have.”

 

Rouxls nodded. “Yes, but Lanc’r bears his wits. Right, thy highness?”

 

Lancer slowly nodded his head. Rouxls leaned down and whispered to him. “Ev'rything is well enow, Lanc'r. Wend anon, playeth with the oth'r children. Thee shall beest good now. I am watching ov'r thee.”

 

With a soft smile crossing his round face, Lancer loosened his grip around Rouxls’ waist. His blue eyes glanced at the tall human standing near Asgore. The former King noticed, and turned to Kris.

 

"Kris, won't you spend some time with young Lancer? Give him some company?"

 

"I wouldn't mind," Kris said, "but don't forget to wait outside the park until mom gets here. She said she'll meet you in the chapel."

 

Asgore chuckled. "I know, she told me the plans. I didn't forget."

 

"Aye," Rouxls added, "Stout minds tend not to f'rget, sire."

 

Asgore nodded. "Indeed."

 

Kris took hold of Lancer's hand and led the smaller canine monster around the park, carrying on a faint conversation that Asgore could only pick up a few pieces of. Rouxls glanced at the stage, then back to Asgore, speaking once more.

 

"Our mage and jester hath met with thy mistress.  They shall p’rform aft'r thy c'remony." Rouxls sighed. "Jevil did suggest we hath brought 'long a grand band to s'renade thee, that imp hadst claim'd at least. I supposeth yond's well enow? Thy mistress hath seemed to liketh the idea."

 

"Toriel told me. She likes the grand and fancy, you know. I don't too much mind." Asgore responded. Noticing the time on the church's street clock, Asgore quickly waved to Rouxls and headed through the gates.

 

*

 

With each wave of the imp’s hands, the instruments of the once-royal monster orchestra emitted a deep, powerful, and lovely tune. The monsters played their instruments with pride; each blow of the horns was deeply heartfelt; each beat of the drums was beautifully passionate; each stroke against the strings was serenely emotional. 

 

On one side of the wide stage, the orchestra played. On the other, a large wooden arch fashioned with ancient monster runes and glyphs stood proudly, and underneath it, a priestess in black robes waited patiently. On the sides of the stage were the stairs, and directly in front stood the audience, with a violet carpet trailing through the split center and to the stairs. Within the audience, Kris stood with Frisk at his side, her small handheld in his larger one. In the large crowd, it appeared they were the only humans at the ceremony... not that they cared. Although they wouldn't quite understand the significance of this celebration and what it meant to the monsters, they certainly noticed that deep inside these folk, something resonated within each of them.

 

Adjacent to the two humans, Seam stood near the stage, gazing up at Jevil’s graceful hand movements. Jevil had a knack for entertainment, particularly music and physical performance; Seam couldn’t forget that. Jevil was the best at what he loved, the best performer Seam himself ever knew. Jevil understood music in a way others didn’t. In fact, music was a key part of Jevil’s performances. ‘If the music is bad, the whole show is bad,’ Seam recalled Jevil chastising him about it once. He’s quite passionate about the topic. Jevil was, of course, understandably eager about the orchestra’s appearance here.

 

For the occasion, the imp wore an aerialists suit, tailored by Rouxls himself. The steward’s tailoring skills have yet to escape him, it seems. The suit was decorated with the royal insignia of the Dreemurr’s former kingdom, the “Delta Rune” directly in the center of the chest. Rouxls believed it would be a sweet reminiscent to the days before this new era.

 

As the climax of the arrangement drew near, the audience’s heads turned to the park’s gates. As the two keepers pulled them open and entering through were Asgore and Toriel, arms linked together. Large smiles stretched wide across their faces, their sharp teeth appeared far from sinister. Together, they walked across the violet silk carpet stretched across the ground, leading from the gate to the stage. Kris noticed monster weddings were different from human ones, in that with human weddings, the groom waited for the bride to walk across the carpet to him who waited on the stage. With monster weddings, the groom and bride walked together across the carpet. Interesting, he thought, and rather sweet.

 

Under the arch, the priestess said nothing. No vows, no promises for them to repeat, nothing. The two goat monsters leaned down, on their knees, and the priestess placed her hands on their foreheads. She spoke not a word, but a soft hum. Asgore and Toriel then stood, hand in hand, and Asgore faced his bride, baring a grin. He brought her close to him, and placed their muzzles together, lovingly, reminiscent of a time before.

 

In a dramatic change, the orchestra played the final tune of the piece. Jevil jumped from the act of conductor and slung himself midair onto the stage’s curtains. Ribbons hung low on steel beams, and one by one, Jevil twirled himself around them, striking various poses. The crowd watched in awe. Suddenly, various other performers joined Jevil on the stage. Flips, jumps, hops, skips; with monsters sporting inhuman anatomy, it was acrobatics like none have ever seen!

 

In the back of the audience, the cork loudly popped out of a bottle of champagne, and the familiar scratchy voice of a friendly fish man shouted above them all. 

 

“To the Dreemurrs!” Hydra yelled, pouring the drink into a silver tankard.

 

“To the Dreemurrs!” the crowd repeated, followed by happy ‘woos’ and shouts.

 

 Toriel rested her head on Asgore’s shoulder, wrapping her fluffy arms around his much larger right one, watching as the monsters on stage performed their hearts out for them. After a few moments, Toriel suddenly spoke up to Asgore, her voice low. “I know it’s not necessary, but… I apologize deeply for the grudge I held against you all those years, Asgore.” 

 

“You need not, Toriel.” Asgore responded. “I told you this.”

 

“I know,” She said, “it just feels as if I must.”

 

Asgore held her tighter. “No past grudge can harm what we have now. None at all.” He smiled. Toriel exhaled, feeling content.

 

Several feet away, Seam maneuvered closer to the stage. Jevil offered for him to join them on stage before the performance began, but Seam declined. He was nowhere near as talented as he once was, he admitted. It would be embarrassing. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the show from the audience’s perspective. Jevil flipped down from one of the beams and stood proudly on his feet. He made eye contact with Seam, and with a devious smirk crossing his face, the imp launched himself off the stage, and inro Seam’s arms.

 

“Nice catch, Seam!” Jevil giggled. “You must have some quick reaction time!”

Seam scoffed and playfully responded. “Perhaps I just know you well.”

 

The imp chuckled. “Perhaps you do.”

 

*

 

The wedding ended with a mixture of thank yous, goodbyes, and some people offering to stay back and help clean up. The folks that left were unfortunately blissfully unaware that Toriel would be giving away some of the leftover snacks to those that stayed behind, but that was intentional. Kris folded up one of the tablecloths neatly and placed it on the stack when he suddenly heard his name called from nearby.

 

“Hey,” a gruff female voice called. “Kris!”

 

The teenage boy quickly turned around to see Susie approaching him. Her hands her stuffed deeply in her pockets, and she was clearly slouching, but she didn’t appear to be hiding anything. Surprisingly, she didn’t appear to be upset either. With Susie having bullied Kris quite a bit in the past, this was most surprising to him. “Oh-” He stuttered.  “Susie. Hi... I didn’t know you decided to… show up.”

 

“Yeah well, everybody and their brother was showing up, so. Might as well, I guess.” She huffed and took a seat in a nearby chair that had yet to be folded. “So, your parents got back together, huh?”

 

“Yeah, I guess so.” Kris responded. He pretended to be straightening up the stack of tablecloths.

 

“Cool.” Susie leaned back in the chair. “They must care about you a lot. Mrs. Toriel is a nice woman.”

 

“She is.” Kris was finding it difficult to come up with replies that hopefully wouldn’t upset Susie.

 

After a few moments, Susie finally spoke up once again, thankfully ending the awkwardness. “Hey,” she said, “Do you think we could hang out sometime after school?”

 

Kris looked up from the cloths, right at Susie’s face. Her expression was not angry, conniving or upset. She was genuine. _Actually genuine._ This sudden change in Susie’s behavior was odd indeed, but Kris knew better than to ask. Perhaps she had some time herself, some time to think. Kris knew of those moments. They are hard to forget.

 

“Sure Susie.” He responded, a tiny smile popping up onto his pale face. “You can come over whenever you like. My mom wouldn’t mind, and my dad sure as Hell won’t, heh.”

 

Susie didn’t reply with anything else but a toothy grin.

 

“Kris, honey?”

 

The boy turned to the sound of his mother calling him. Susie chuckled and mocked her.

Toriel approached them and paused, a camera in her right hand. “Come on sweetie, we’re taking pictures.” 

 

In front of the giant apple tree that stood a few blocks away from the park. Toriel decided to take a few pictures. Memories, she called them. It was something she cherished very much.

 

She took a few alone with Asgore, then some with Kris and Frisk. One with just Kris and Frisk. (It’s wall photo quality, Asgore said.) Frisk and Kris wanted to take one with Lancer, Sans, and Papyrus. Toriel was far from reluctant. (According to Asgore, it was also wall photo quality.) Then she, Asgore, and Gaster took one together. It was something she wanted for a while. 

 

Frisk then suggested a big group photo, with not just her family, but with the family friends as well. So Toriel, Asgore, Kris, Frisk, Gaster, Sans, Papyrus, Rouxls, Lancer, Jevil, and Seam all stood together, smiling brightly, while Gaster used his levitation magic to hold the camera in place. With a snap, the photo was taken.

 

Asgore took the camera and reviewed the photo. He grinned. “This is also going on the wall.” He said.

 

Toriel chuckled. “I know, it’s one of many.”

 

“Print that one off too, Toriel. I want a copy.” Gaster exclaimed.

 

“I as well.” Rouxls added.

 

Jevil spoke up. "Me too!”

 

*

 

It was late. The lights in the house were off. Sans sat on the side of his bed, staring down at the photo in his hand. He smiled, at least as much as a skeleton could smile. It was a very memorable photograph, one he'd cherish for years to come. One he had seen before, sone time ago.

 

With a red pen, Sans wrote on the white bottom portion of the picture in neat, fine letters, “don’t forget.” He placed the photo in his drawer and closed it quietly. With a big stretch, Sans flipped over onto his bed and covered up, falling asleep. 

 

Ever since the time wound had healed, Sans had finally been able to rest easy. Gaster had come to him in dreams before, telling him promises that the Void had enabled him to realize, things he had once ignored. He candle in shadows, that he’d be there for Sans whenever he’d need him. Such a thing allowed a sense of clarity and assuring feeling that keeps him content. The fear of the world falling apart was no more. 

 

“Don’t forget,” Gaster had once said to him in shadows, “I’m with you in the dark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! I've been writing this series since 2016, and I feel so accomplished! Thank you so much to everyone who has followed me along this journey! I love you all! <3


	11. UPDATE

So to clarify, this series isn't COMPLETELY over. There are more than likely some details that are missing. I would like to hear from my readers. Is there anything I should clarify about this series? Any missing links? Information? Questions?  Please let me know.

 

In other words, I'm going to attempt to not be so inactive. I'll admit, I've been slacking. But then again, I have real life things to attend to as well!

So, here's a list of my plans:

 

¤ Re-Write _Mother Was In Violet._

¤ Finish the OHAM Animatic.

¤ Finish _Of Humans and Monsters._

¤ Officially begin _UMBRA_ and other original works _._

¤ Upload my old Fanfiction I've been hesitant to touch.

¤ Start posting my artwork to my social media.

 

I would really like to get OHAM out the way so I can begin working on my original projects. But I will not quit with it until I know for sure it is truly complete. So I would like an opinion from the readers who wish to voice it. 

 

I thank you in advance!


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